Some Kind of Wonderful
by sandiwandi
Summary: Pansy's drunk and Harry's sleepy! Just a little fic with lots of selfrevealing dialogue. HarryPansy, PG13 for swearing


**Title:** Some Kind of Wonderful

**Pairing:** Harry/Pansy. THAT'S RIGHT. D/Hr? What D/Hr? Kidding, of course.

**Summary:** Pansy's drunk and Harry's sleepy!

**Disclaimer:** I wish. No wait, I don't.

**Author's Notes:** Yes. I got victimized by **bk11** once again. And I gotta tell you Stace, I wrote this so fast, I don't know if you're gonna like it or not. Well, let's hope for the best. Now YOU owe ME a FIC! But yeah, this little fic is for you. Coz your threats scared me.

_OMG, you have to write me more. Or else I'll fucking kill your ass SO HARD, Sandi. Oh my god. You thought I was annoying and full of threats before, you don't even know how bad my motherfucking threats can get. _

Naw. Coz I wuv yooh.

Please read and review guys! PLEEEASE. I am begging right now. Take pity!

Fairytales aren't for everybody.

It's for fools who choose to sit around and do nothing.

Fairytales aren't for Pansy Parkinson.

She is a woman of the world.

She doesn't have time for that.

A party here, a party there…that's her life. Getting pissed drunk almost every night is what she's known for. And she loves it.

"Fucking shit Pans! You threw up on my shoes! Shit shit SHIT! These babies are new!"

"I'll pay you back, I promise. Now help me get-"

Her head was now bobbing besides a dumpster.

"Shit. You gotta stop doing this-"

"Hey shut up! I don't wanna listen to that right now. Hold my hair bitch!"

"Someday, Parkinson. Someday you'll get tired of this."

"I doubt it."

Pansy wipes her mouth and smiles.

"Let's go back inside?"

"Fuck no. YOU are going home, lady."

"Aw c'mon Laura! It's Saturday! I don't have work tomorrow. I can go home anytime I want you know. Please? Pretty pretty- OW!"

She steps on an old shoe and falls down.

"FUCK! What the hell is THAT shoe doing here? Fuck!"

"Ho-kay. Let's get you home."

"I mean seriously Laura. Why is there a SHOE in an alleyway? Why? Did someone just fucking throw it one day for the sole reason that SOMEONE might fall over it? Did he think 'oh hahaha this should be a FUN COOL JOKE! Leave a shoe behind and see who steps on it and fucking ruins her dress!' Is that it? Or does he feel like he's fucking Cinderella and the fucking -what do you call that- coach! Yeah, does he think his fucking coach is gonna turn into a fucking pumpkin because it's fucking midnight and so he leaves his shoe behind? Fuck!"

"C'mon, grab hold of my hand. Let's hope there's still a cab this time of night. Pansy, you fucking owe me new shoes. I'm serious."

"You can have that fucking shoe in the alleyway."

"Very funny."

After 10 minutes, they finally get a cab.

"Pans?"

"Hmm?"

"You okay?"

"Yep."

"You sure?"

"Yes MOM."

"Dude, if I was your mom I'd fucking smack you in the face right now."

"But you aren't."

"Thank God."

"Laura?"

"Hmm?"

"I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE! YOU OTHER BROTHERS CAN'T DENY AND WHEN-"

"Pansy!"

"- A GIRL WALKS IN A WITH AN ITTY BITTY WAIST AND A ROUND THING IN YOUR FACE, YOU GET SPRUNG!"

"Hey LADY! Pipe down will ya?"

"I'm really sorry sir. She's a little drunk right now – Pansy! – she's usually not like this."

"Whatever. Just make her shut up."

Laura puts her hand over Pansy's mouth, shutting her up…a little bit.

"Stop it!"

"Mmffmm..fine. Geez. Was just having a little fun."

"That _wasn't_ fun."

"Since when did you get stuck-up?"

From the moment she said it, she knew it was stupid.

But she doesn't apologize. She rarely does these days.

The ride back to Pansy's apartment suddenly becomes quiet. Too quiet.

"Okay, here's me. Thanks for not letting me make a fool of myself tonight."

"Too late."

"Well…okay, fine. Whatever. See you at work?"

"Yeah. Night Pans."

"Night."

She gets out of the car and walks towards the door.

"Open up, will you? Geez."

She tries putting the key in, but it doesn't work.

"Shit. C'mon baby. Work."

She tries again.

"Shit."

One last time, she thought. 

Still doesn't work.

"Crap. Okay…here goes nothing. HELLO? IS ANYBODY AWAKE? CAN SOMEBODY OPEN THE DOOR DOWNSTAIRS PLEASE? MR. MORRISON? ANYBODY?"

"Will you shut the fuck up lady! It's three a.m. for crying out loud!"

"I'M SORRY BUT COULD YOU PLEASE OPEN THE DOO-"

The door opens and she sees someone with round glasses, ugly hair and an annoyed look holding the doorknob.

"Potter."

"Get in Parkinson."

"Shut up."

And she goes in.

"Hey Potter, do you have some coffee? I'm out of it but I need one so bad."

"Parkinson, it's three in the morning. Can't you ask me that tomorrow?"

"No, I want it now."

"Well I'm sorry your highness. The factory's closed for the night."

She snorts.

"You suck at punch lines, you know that?"

"I heard you suck too Parkinson. Though I'm quite sure nobody complained."

Her smile suddenly fades.

"Shut the fuck up, Potter. Just shut the fuck up."

Her hand raises and aims to slap him, but she misses. Instead she falls down. Again.

"Ow. Well are you just gonna stand there and watch me?"

"Maybe."

"You are so gay."

"So?"

She has nothing to say to that.

He offers her his hand and she takes it.

"Thanks."

"What was that? I couldn't here you."

"I said THANKS!"

She shouts in his ears.

"Bitch."

"Fuckface."

"Retard."

"Asshole."

"ASShat."

"Pussy."

"FATTIE."

She gasps.

"What did you just say?"

"I said FATTIE. What're you gonna do about that, huh?"

She looks at him long and hard, then she starts to cry.

"That…was mean."

She's almost sobbing now.

"Oh shit…I'm sorry Parkinson. I didn't mean it."

"Really?"

"Well…"

"Shut up."

And he does.

"I need coffee, Potter. I need coffee NOW. And unless you want me to puke on your-"

She looks at his slippers.

He's not wearing any.

"-your feet, you should cater to my needs."

"And why the hell am I obligated to do that? What are you to me, exactly?"

"Because. I might be the girl for you and just don't know it yet. So go ahead! Blow your chance by not giving me coffee!"

"Tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass."

"Oh c'mon Potter!"

"For the love of GOD, let me sleep woman!"

"Are you telling me that the GREAT Harry Potter, who has saved countless lives, kissed numerous babies, signed millions of autographs can't give one FRIGGIN' cuppa coffee to a girl very much in need of it?"

"That's not funny."

"I don't care."

"I should've left you out there."

"You've got some issues, Potter."

"Who doesn't?"

"Wanna talk about it?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he opens his apartment door.

"Get in."

"Do you have instant noodles?"

"Don't push it."

"Fine."

She plops down his couch and rests her legs on top of the coffee table.

"Oh this feels so GOOD. Mmmm…"

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Black."

"Well come over here and make it."

Pansy shakes her head and gets up.

"You are one crazy man, Potter."

"Does that make you horny?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

She goes over to him and looks for mugs.

"Where do you keep your mugs?"

"Uh…I haven't bought one yet."

"WHAT? You don't have a mug but you have four different kinds of coffee making machines? One for lattes, one for cappuccinos, one for brewing and one for "exta strong and manly" – what the fuck?"

"Get over it, Parkinson. Here's a plastic cup."

He throws her two plastic cups with ducks for design.

"Potter. You do know this is gonna melt, right?"

"It's not. I've tried it before."

"Whatever you say. But don't blame me when it does."

"Trust me, it won't."

And what do you know? He's right. The cups don't melt.

"You have a weird apartment, man."

"Well, it depends on what you mean by 'weird'."

"Weird is when you have four different kinds of coffee makers but no mugs, weird is when you have a cooler for a fridge and a frying pan that's on a barbecue grill. That's weird."

"Different strokes for different folks."

"Lets toast to that."

"So what happened to you, Parkinson? Why the fuck were you screaming your lungs out?"

"Duh. As if it wasn't obvious. My KEY wasn't working. For the life of me I don't know WHY."

"Maybe it was the wrong key?"

"Well holy shit Batman! Why didn't I think of that? Dumbass. Of course I thought it was the wrong key! But I'm SURE, so sure that it's not. I bet…I bet Mrs. Rodriguez changed the  
locks. She's never liked me."

"Parkinson, Mrs. Rodriguez is eighty years old. I doubt she has the strength to even go out of her room."

"Yeah well, that's what I think and I'm sticking to that."

"You're crazy."

"Does that make you horny?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Uhm…"

"Im fucking kidding Potter! I heard you ask me that earlier, you know. I'm not that dumb. Geez. You should have seen your face."

"Yeah, it does."

"It does what?"

"It does make me horny."

"Ew!"

"Sucker."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Ooh, so mature of you Potter. VERY mature."

"Yeah well, I try."

"You sure do. Anyway, what's up with YOU? What are you doing these days?"

"I eat, sleep and take a crap most of the time."

"No work?"

"I wish. I do have work, but I can live without it."

"Oh right, coz you got lotsa fortune after the whole 'saving the fucking world because it's fucking prophesied' thing. Gotcha."

"I hate that. I wish I could have those things with the glasses, the fake nose and the mustache…you know that thing? Yeah. I wish I had that. But permanently."

She laughs. Really loud.

"Dude that's hideous!"

"If that's what it takes then I'll do it."

"Ladies will cry. I tell you Potter, ladies WILL cry when that happens. No more Harry Potter to fantasize about at night. I heard last week that Stacy, you know Stacy? The spinster on the third floor? Well, she was telling Mary her dream about you. She said that there were whipped cream, a coat and and lots of chocolate involved. Mm-mmm. That sounds YUMMY."

"Remind me to give dear old Stacy a call someday."

"Ooh kinky!"

"You got that right, babe."

And she laughs again. Which in turn makes him laugh as well.

"Okay Potter. I gotta go. It's getting-"

She looks out the window.

"-it's getting early. I need my beauty sleep."

"You don't need it."

"Are you flirting with me, Mr. Potter?"

"And what if I am?"

"Well, we'll have to deal with that tomorrow because I am dead tired."

She just killed the mood. Right there.

"Right. Okay. Want me to walk you up?"

"That would be nice. Weird but nice."

They go out Harry's door and head upstairs.

"Well, goodnight."

She stands outside her door, still facing him.

"Night."

And he leaves.

"Hey Harry!"

He looks back. Probably shocked with the first name basis.

"C'mere."

And he does.

She leans in. He closes his eyes. Her lips barely touching his.

"Thanks for the coffee."

He doesn't say anything, instead he presses his lips to hers harder.

"You're welcome."

And he walks away. For real this time.

"Well. That was interesting."

She goes inside her room wearing a huge smile, rarely seen by people. It would have been scandalous.

Fairytales aren't for her. 

Because fairytales don't have men with four different coffee makers but no mugs.

END


End file.
